


weak endeavors

by hiddinginshadows



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, SoMa - Freeform, SoMa Week 2019, underground fighting au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-01-23 12:42:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18549988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddinginshadows/pseuds/hiddinginshadows
Summary: For SoMa Week 2019. Soul's an underground boxer who's just trying to make some extra money to start his own life, it's not his fault that his trainer's daughter seems to catch his eye, and he can't seem to stop her from wiggling her way into his life. Mature for adult language and situations.





	1. 2 A.M.

Black was the only color that hid the blood.

At first he had tried red, but when the blood dried (his or his opponents, sometimes he couldn't tell), it had turned a rusty color. Then he had tried brown, but he could still see the sliver of an outline from the splatters. Finally, Blake had given him some black wraps with a mumbled try these, and from that day on, Souls hands were wrapped in black and unforgiving.

He didn't like the fights. He never got a fighters high, but it brought in the most cash. His other two jobs were made through friendships, the first at Blake's shitty hole-in-the-wall bar where being drunk seemed like a requirement when entering the place. The second he enjoyed more, but was less entertaining, at Blake's girlfriends book shop. It was small, hipster heaven. He had caught people coming in simply to take an aesthetically pleasing photo for their Instagram more than once. But, both were minimum wage, and part-time, and that wasn't enough for him to make it on his own.

"Soul," Blake's voice echoed in the empty room, off the metal doors of rusty lockers. Soul glanced up from underneath his shaggy hair. The man was his age, but shorter and bulkier. His neon blue hair, which he insisted was a trend, appeared washed out and faded in the blinking light of the shitty locker room. "They're waiting."

"Of course," Soul stood up, flexing his hands in the wraps, testing to make sure they were tight enough to protect his knuckles as best as they could, but loose enough not to turn his fingers a shade of purple.

(Sometimes he wrapped them just a little too tight to watch the tan skin of his fingers turn a slight shade cooler. Just to make sure.)

"He's good," Blake said as the two men walked out of the locker room and into a loud, crowded basement. He raised his already booming voice. "He focuses mostly on offense, but that doesn't mean his defense is weak. I know he's been out of the game for a while, but he's a legend, so I doubt he's going into this blind. I suggest waiting it out a bit, make sure you study his moves a little before doing anything big. He's taller than you, but about the same weight, light on his feet. He did break his knee a few years back, though, which was why he had to pull out. His left one, so maybe hone in on that."

"I'm not breaking an old man's knee," Soul scoffed, nodding to a few people as he walked through the crowd towards the center of the basement where the ring was.

"I'm just saying, if worse come to worse."

"I'll be fine."

Blake gave Soul a hard look before nodding and clasping a hand roughing on the other man's shoulder. He wished him good luck, told him not to die, and then disappeared into the crowd. He may be Soul's best friend, but Blake had a bar to look after, which was located above the underground ring.

Soul made his way through the crowd once more,stopping at the edge of the makeshift fighting ring. It was sad, something they had found on Craigslist. It was being sold after a close-by after-school program was closing up, and the ring was used for their boxing program. It was made for kids, not full grown men and women, so it was smaller, a tighter area, which meant more intense fights. And the people loved that.

The bands which fenced the ring in were dirty, some were snapped in half, laying limply on the ground. Soul lifted one and entered the ring, ears pounding to the sound of the small audience roaring with excitement. His opponent had yet to enter, but Soul knew he wouldn't back down, not after the way Soul challenged him.

"Hey kid," a voice snapped Soul back to reality.

Soul's opponent stood across the ring, ginger hair pulled into a ponytail, blue eyes piercing, and his fists wrapped in red. There was a cut on the bridge of his nose, and his eyes had bags, but there was no denying that there was a fierceness in the man's eyes that only came from years of experience in the ring.

"Three rounds," a voice rang out, but Soul was trained on his opponent. "First one down for ten is out. At the end of three rounds, it's a tie. Are the fighters ready?"

"Aye," Soul said, clenching his fists. The other man spat.

"Begin!"

Soul stepped forward, bouncing on his heels as he watched the older man move, the two circling each other. The sounds of the crowd died out and all Soul heard was a pounding in his ears. The opponent had a straight face, eyes tracking Soul's every move, and then there was a flash of movement.

His fist connected with Soul's shoulder, but that was better than his face. It hurt like hell, and packed power, but Soul took the chance and grabbed the man's arm, tugging him forwards and rammed his shoulder into the man's chest. He heard a gasp and then felt a punch on his back followed by a knee to the stomach. Soul clenched his teeth at the impact, but moved his hands to the man's neck, pulling him over his back and slamming the man into the pad of the mat.

"God dammit," he heard the older man grumble, and Soul turned around swiftly, taking a few steps back so his opponent could stand up. "What? Too scared to kick someone who's down?"

"I like my fights fair," Soul countered, "something that you wouldn't understand from what I've heard, Spirit."

"Rumors are rumors, kid," the man spat, blood covering the front of his teeth, "back in my day, fights were done with bare knuckles in backyards."

"Back in your day you had to fight dirty to win because you something to fight for," Soul smirked at the way Spirit's eye twitched, "from what I heard, you're an empty nester now. No wife. No kid. Sounds like you've got fighters rush to block that shit out."

"You white-haired, mother-,"

Spirit launched himself at Soul and the younger man dodged it, landing a good punch on Spirits ribs, but he ended up standing in a corner. Spirit turned around quickly and smirked, seeing the opportunity to trap the other fighter. Soul tighten his fists, taking a deep breath and trying hard not to wince at the pain that blossomed in his stomach.

As Spirit moved, Soul dodged, his face close to the edge of the ring. He tried to focus on Spirit, his fists and his moves, tried to study the way he fought, but a flash of green caught the corner of his eye and he looked away for a moment.

Green eyes.

That's all he remembered seeing before blacking out.

\---

He woke up to a coolness on his eyes, someone touching his torso, and the sound of an angry girl.

When he cracked his eyes open, Soul saw green eyes framed by long, blonde lashes, and white teeth pinching an ace bandage. The girl blinked and he realized it was her hand that was on him because she moved it to push the fringe of bangs on her forehead back, and he missed the warmth.

"You've got a black eye, a split brow and lip, and some nasty bruises on your lower ribs, but you'll be fine," She said after removing the bandage from her mouth and pressing a bit of it to his brow, "I'm Maka by the way."

"Why are you even helping this punk, sweetheart," Soul heard the voice of Spirit as he closed his eyes, head pounding and stomach churning, "I'm sure Blake can fix him up just fine."

"Maybe because you're the asshole who knocked him out and I always have to clean up after you," the girl, Maka, spat back with venom, "God, is like you're trying to fuck everything up to get me back into your life, Papa. For once can't you just figure your own shit out? No wonder Mama left."

"E-excuse me?"

"Wait, did you just say Papa?" Soul grimace, voice raspy.

"Yeah, sadly," Maka huffed, peeling the bandage away as Soul opened his eyes again, "that's my dick of a dad who beat you up. But, you held your ground for a good bit until …," she trailed off and Soul watched her cheeks go pink.

"Until what?" He smirked, finally getting to look her up and down.

"Hey, watch where you're looking," she hissed, slapping him in the ribs with the back of hand, making him hiss in pain, "I'm not sorry about that."

She stood up, tossing the ace bandage into a small messenger bag by her feet. She glanced over to her dad before leaning down to gather the bag and hoist it onto her shoulder. Her blonde hair was pulled into a high ponytail, a few tendrils framing her face and a fringe of bangs. Her eyes were green, but they looked dark from the distance even though Soul has seen flecks of blue around her iris when she was closer to him. He noted she had long, fit legs and her arms seemed to be tight with muscle, but he snapped his eyes back to her face after her words repeated in his head.

"I'm getting a drink," she huffed, rolling her eyes and she spun on a heel, "try not to beat each other up again, I'm a history student, not med."

She disappeared from the locker room, the door slamming behind her.

Soul touched the ice pack he assumed she had place on his head, and sat up on the bench, his muscles pulling and begging him to lay back down. Spirit was across the room, leaning on the rusty, old lockers. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt now, but Soul could tell he had left some bruises on the man by the way Spirit pushed off the lockers and winced.

"You, ah, put up a pretty good fight out there," Soul offered, trying to ease the tension in the room, "I know I said some shit out there in the ring, and I want to apologize. It was unprofessional and -,"

"This is fighting," Spirit cut him off, "not an office job. There's no such thing as unprofessional."

"Right, got it," Soul swallowed hard, fingers dancing atop the ice pack in his hand.

"Listen kid," Spirit walked over toward Soul and took a seat next to him on the bench, "I may have been out of the ring for a while, but I still know what I'm doing. You've got some good fight in you, some good moves. Reminds me a bit of myself when I first got into the scene."

"Really?"

Spirit hummed and fished into his pocket, pulling out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. He lit one, took a big puff, and blew the smoke from his nose. He was quiet for a moment.

"It was true what you said in the ring though," he said, eyes going distant, "my wife and daughter hate me because of what I do, where I go at night. My wife left me and Maka … I can tell she's getting there. I'm only telling you this because you're a lot like me when I was younger. I've seen you fight, I've been watching you for a while. When word got out that were was a new guy, someone following in my footsteps, I needed to met him and put him in place."

Soul was quiet, the ice pack now beginning to numb his palm.

"Not to be rude," Soul said, "but you don't know me. We're different, you and I. I didn't start fighting because I had a family to support. I started for myself and I fight for myself. I don't have, and won't have, what you did."

"That's what you think," Spirit huffed, putting his cigarette out on the bench before he stood, "If you're going down this path, do it right. If you're gonna be following after me, than I want a good-ass trainee."

Soul's eyes widened as he looked up to Spirit who stood there, hands in pockets, eyes hard.

"You're pulling out after just coming back?"

"I'm too old for this shit, and my daughter was right. I bring her my bullshit all the time. She always comes to my fights, cleans me up after, swears me out, and then ignores me until the next time I need help. I can't keep doing that to her, not when she's about to start her own life."

Spirit made his way towards the door of the locker room. He stopped before leaving.

"I'm leaving my number with Blake. I expect to hear from you by the end of the week if you want to train. But, my first advice for you, don't apologize for anything that happened in the ring. That will just piss off your opponent more, and beef's outside of the ring can get bad."

\---

The bar was usually filled at two in the morning, but on a Tuesday night, Soul should have expected it to be empty. There were a few people, an older man passed out at one of the tables, a couple in the back making out, and Maka sitting at the bar, beer in hand, head thrown back as she laughed at something Blake had said.

Soul made his way over, Maka catching his eye, her own eyes narrowing suspiciously as he sat on the stool next to her. Blake had already filled a glass with beer and had it on the bar ready for him. Soul took a sip, the alcohol burning the cut on his lip.

"It was really stupid of you to say that stuff to my dad in the ring," Maka said suddenly, making Soul cock an eyebrow, "that shit really riles him up."

"That was the plan."

"For you to get your ass kicked?"

"If I remember, I was doing the ass kicking before you got involved."

"Oh, and how did I get involved, per say?"

Soul turned his body towards her a bit, taking her in again and he watched as her cheeks turned pink. Blake had left by this point, mumbled something about getting the last customer's out so he could close.

"Listen here, blondie," Soul said, leaning forward a little, "I appreciate you fixing me up, and I understand that you think your dad is a good fighter, whether you like him or not, and that I need to watch my mouth, but if you don't stop looking at me with those eyes, and getting pink in the face every time I so much as glance at you, something is gonna be done about it."

"I prefer it if my suitor's take me on at least two dates before they talk about ravishing me," Maka scoffed, rolling her eyes as she took another sip of her beer, "and if I recall correctly, it was you who froze up like a statue when you saw me."

"And you were the one who fixed me up up-close-and-personal. I believe I recall some wandering hands on my chest and stomach."

"To feel for broken bones," she hissed, her face blossoming in color again, "perv."

"Tiny-tits."

"Asshole!"

Soul smirked as Maka crossed her arms, her neck and chest now flush with either anger or embarrassment. Soul couldn't tell which, but he liked to color on her.

"Sorry," he chuckled, leaning back and holding his hands up in surrender, "it's too easy to tease you with your reaction. Let's go back to introductions because I think we started on the wrong foot. I'm Soul, twenty-four year old male. I love open-mics and long walks on the beach. My favorite kind of movies are rom-coms and I love puppies."

That got a snicker out of Maka and Soul wondered if he could make her laugh like he had seen her do with Blake.

"Maka. Twenty-one year old female. I love the night time and silent movies, but only if they are black-and-white. My favorite kind of books are cheesy romance and I love cats."

"Ouch," Soul said, putting his hand over his chest, "I thought you'd be more of a dog person."

"Don't think too much about me, Soul, I'm not what I seem."

"Mmm," Soul hummed, taking another sip of his beer, "and what if I want to think more about you?"

"Dear god," Maka rolled her eyes as she finished the last of her beer, "is this how you pick up girls?"

"Only one's named Maka."

"That's my cue to leave," she laughed, grabbing her bag from the other stool, "listen, I'm sorry my dad is an asshat and gave you a black eye. Even though you push my buttons, you seem like a cool guy."

"I am the epitome of cool, blondie."

"Alright, cool guy, than an acquaintanceship it is."

"Not even friends?" he smirked.

"I actually like my friends," she smirked back, "see you around Soul. Try not to get killed in those idiotic fights."

"Whatever you say," he watched as she left and wondered if this, two A.M. in a shitty bar after getting beat up by her dad, was the last time he would see Maka Albarn.


	2. Best Friends

The bookstore was his favorite of his three jobs. 

There was always a candle burning somewhere, soft, lyricless music playing, and a set up for making a cup of tea. Not only that, but there were days where no one would talk to Soul. He could come in, stock books, dust, take inventory, and do a few check-outs, and not a single word would be uttered for the full five hours. He loved it.

But now, those empty hours were just more time he used to think about the smart-mouth, fierce blonde he had met two weeks ago.

Maka Albarn wouldn’t leave his thoughts and it was starting to worry him.

They had ran into each other a few more times after that night, the one where she patched him up after her father had knocked him out. Once at a grocery store, and twice at the bar. He had found out that she and Blake were childhood friends, but Maka had moved to Japan with her family for a few years. She had returned about four years ago after being accepted to Dr. Mortimer's University of History. Her mother had stayed in Japan, and her father had gotten back into fighting the past year because the two had officially filed for divorce.

Something that had seemed like a sore topic rolled easily off her tongue, and Soul didn’t think it had anything to do with the few beers she had. She told him about how Blake had a scene-phase in middle school and had demanded everyone call him Black Star. She talked about her favorite author (some historical fiction writer Soul had never heard of) for a good twenty-minutes before realizing she had been talking the whole time. She asked him simple questions, about where he was from, where he worked, what his favorite movie was, but after getting short, curt responses, she picked up on the fact that he was less of a talker and more of a listener. 

When she had put her number in his phone, she used a book emoji followed by a golden heart.

“Hey Soul,” Tsubaki’s voice was light. She could tell when he wandered off into his thoughts. The young man turned, giving her a smile. Tsubaki’s deep, gray eyes twinkled from the light that seeped in from the tall windows in the front of the shop. “I’m going to run out real fast. I need to go to the post office and grab some stamps for some orders that came in, and then swing by Best Buy for some new cables for the card reader. I have to wiggle the wires more and more each day so I might as well get it done while I can.”

“No problem,” Soul waved her off, turning back around to the box they had just received of some new teen-series, “I’m not at the bar tonight so I can stick around.”

“Thanks,” Tsubaki sighed, going to the checkout counter and kneeled behind the oak wood, “I figured Blake wouldn’t have minded anyways.”

“When it come to you, he’d do anything.”

“Well, I guess that’s a good thing in certain situations.”

Tsubaki waved goodbye as she left, the bell above the door ringing gently. Soul finished shelving the books, and began to break down the box they came in when the bell rang again.

“Did you forget something?” He turned around, blinking in surprise when he saw Maka.

She stood at the front of the store, pushing sunglasses atop her head. Her hair was braided back into two french braids and they rested over her shoulders. The long, maroon skirt she wore ended right below her knees. As she shifted a messenger bag on her shoulder, the white, button down shirt she wore shifted, the knot that was tied in the front of it lifting to show the smallest sliver of her stomach.

But the most alarming thing about her presence was the small, lithe black cat that stood on her shoulder.

“Soul?” Maka looked at him, eyes wide and smile wider, “I didn’t realize this is the book store you worked at.”

“There’s a cat on your shoulder.”

“Oh,” Maka looked at the cat and smiled, reaching up to scratch it’s chin. There was a purple vest on it, a leash attached to it, and Soul could hear the cat purring from where he stood. “This is Blair, my cat.”

“You did say you like cats more than dogs.”

“Nice memory,” Maka stopped petting her cat and turned, looking around the bookstore for a moment. “Is Tsubaki out?”

“Yeah, you just missed her, she went to the store.”

“I should have figured you meant this bookstore,” Maka walked over to the tea cart which was next to the checkout counter. There was a pot of water, a large caution sign placed in front of it. It sat on the very top of the silver cart, and below it was a lower level were teacups and saucers of different designs and sizes sat. Maka plucked a small, white one that had hand-painted vines and flowers around the rim, and she thumbed through the tea before pulling out a citrus blend that Soul would often drink. “I mean, with Blake being your friend, and Tsubaki being his girlfriend, and her owning a bookstore, I should have connected the dots.”

“Is it a bad thing?”

“No! I just didn’t … it was just hard for me to imagine you working in a bookstore to begin with is all.”

“Because of the fighting.”

“And the bar,” Maka turned around, the skirt dancing around her legs. She moved the tag bag around in her cup, blowing on the steam. The two looked at each other for a moment and then Maka cleared her throat. Blair meowed and hopped down from her shoulder, entwining herself around Maka’s legs before jumping onto the checkout counter and curling up. Maka flicked the leash off from around her wrist and took a sip of her tea.

“Well, I’m gonna, ah, go look for this history book I need.”

“Sure,” Soul watched as she disappeared down the shelves of books. “Let me know if you need help.”

His eyes lingered where she disappeared before he turned and walked down the aisle of teen novels. At the back of aisle was a door which lead to the backroom, where they made piles of recyclable boxes and put together orders that needed to be shipped out. He stacked the boxes and crushed them with his foot, kicking them to the side of the room before going back out onto the sales floor.

Someone else had entered, a girl in light wash jeans and crop top, but she sat on the window seat of the store, tea cup in hand and phone in the other as she snapped a few photos. Soul decided to leave her alone. He opted for making some tea and sitting behind the checkout counter for the rest of the time. If Maka was getting a book, she would have to checkout eventually, and by the looks of it, the other customer was at the bookstore just for some snapchats.

One citrus blend later, Soul was sitting on the stool behind the counter, ignoring Blair who was sleeping on the edge. He had music-sheet journal in front of him as he scribbled away. There was a dull throb beginning in his head, left over from the yellowish-bruise he had that was a black eye last week, after a particularly gruesome fight. Soul had decided to train with Spirit, and in just a week of training he had learned a lot. His next fight was scheduled next week, but he had one the week prior with a scrappy kid. He had gotten a good punch on Soul’s eye, but Soul had knocked the kid out quickly after. 

Soul sipped at the tea, Tsubaki’s voice ringing in his ear about how tea can soothe headaches. The bell for the door rang and Soul glanced up to see the unnamed customer leave, chatting animatedly on her phone. 

“Does that happen often?” Maka appeared at the counter suddenly, three books in hand.

“Does what happen often?” Soul asked back, closing his journal and grabbing her books from her to ring up.

“The instragramers and snappchatters,” Maka looked around, quickly spotting the stool that sat next to the tea cart. She pulled it over and made herself comfortable, her hand resting on the back of Blair. 

“Ah, yeah,” Soul rang the first book up, When Women Ruled the World, a history book that had the image of an egyptian queen on it. “But we’ve gotten use to it by now. We would put up a sign, but most of the times people will tag the store in their pictures so we figured why not have the free advertisement.”

“Makes sense,” Maka scratched behind Blair’s ear, causing the cat to purr.

Soul grabbed the second book, another title about women in history, and rung it up. The third book he recognised, Hidden Figures. 

“Avid reader on women’s history?” He asked, coking an eyebrow and he began putting the books in a bag.

“I’m a teacher’s assistant at my university,” Maka had left Blair alone now, folding her hands together and placing them in her lap. “It’s for an Intro to Women’s History class. I have to be a T.A. for my degree at Uni, so I decided to do that one. Seemed interesting and I’d love to learn more about badass women.”

“Sounds up your ally.”

“Yep. I needed the two, but I haven’t read Hidden Figures yet so I thought I would pick it up.”

“Make sense.”

Maka hummed as she watched him total everything and then glared at him when he took a ten percent discount off the books. He smirked and Maka rolled her eyes.

“Acquaintanceship, remember?”

“I remember,” Soul said, crossing his arms and leaning onto the counter, “but I do recall you saying that you need to actually like your friends, so I figured an acquaintance discount would ease you into a future friend discount?”

“Next time I’ll go to Tsubaki for the friend discount.”

Soul laughed and pulled the bag of books from behind the counter, trading it for her credit card.

“Listen, if you want to enter the friend zone, than come to my game night tonight,” Maka pushed herself off the stoll, smoothing the front of her skirt with her hands, “Tsubaki and Blake always come. I’m surprised they haven’t invited you yet.”

“I’m pretty introverted.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

“What do your game nights usually consist of?”

“Games. Movies. Drinks.” Maka took her card back and signed the bottom of the receipt Soul slid to her. “Maybe food, if we’re all hungry enough. But it’s fun. We play Cards Against Humanity.”

“Sounds boring,” Soul smirked, “no strip poker?”

“Ah, sorry,” Maka said, smirking back, “but that’s only on Friday nights and today is Tuesday. Little too soon in the week.”

“Bummer.”

“So, will you come?”

“To game night?” Soul cocked an eyebrow as Maka nodded, smiling widely. “Sure, blondie. When and where?”

“Tonight at seven, my place. I’ll text you my address.”

“Sounds good,” Soul waved goodbye to her as she left, Blair hopping down and following her owner without a sound. Soul watched as the pair left and Maka stopped, leaning down a little so Blair could hop onto her back and climb up to her shoulder. Maka rubbed the cat’s face, gave one last glance over her shoulder to Soul, and then left.

\---

Maka Albarn’s apartment was exactly how he imagined it. The walls were painted a light, pastel blue with white trimming. Her couch was a pale, cream color, no stains of sunken-in areas. There was a fluffy, white carpet in the center of the living room, and a white coffee table standing on it. The flooring was a pale, ash wood, no scuffs or scraps. All of her wooden furniture was painted white, but weathered away on purpose to make it look vintage. She had at least three lavender scented candles burning at once. But, the one thing that caught him off guard, was the weird, techno posters she had hanging around. They were neon and loud, standing out harshly against her pastel dreamworld.

“Sorry if it’s messy,” she had changed since he saw her last, and was now wearing black sweatpants and a white t-shirt which was knotted at her waist. Her hair was still braided back, but now she had a headband on to hold back her bangs. 

By messy, she meant the books. Soul thought she had more books than the bookstore because there were piles of them.

First, there was the whole, wall bookshelf. She had an in-wall bookshelf on the wall directly across from the front door, it was the first thing he saw when he entered her home. And the shelves were packed to the brim with books, and the occasional candle or plant. In the center of it was a cut out for a T.V., which was mounted to the wall. It look uncharacteristically out of place nestled into the center of the bookshelf wall. 

But, there were also stacks around the room. There was one next to the side table on the far side of the couch, another small one on top of the coffee table, and a third one in the very corner of the living room. Blair was perched on the top of it, snoozing. 

“I don’t think books can qualify as messy,” Soul snorted as he shifted the grocery bag he had in hand, “if anything, scattered books makes a person look even more smart.”

“Yeah, well, after you get to know me more,” Maka huffed, grabbing a few books that lay on the counter that divided her kitchen and living room, “it’ll start to get annoying.”

“Am I the first one here?” He changed the topic, his stomach twisting at her words. After you get to know me more.  
“Yeah, but Liz and Patti live in this complex so they should be here soon. Kid, his name is Kendrick, but we just call him Kid, gets off work at seven thirty, so he’ll be here around eight. Blake and Tsubaki should be coming back with pizza any minute, and Kilik, Kim, and Jackie are usually a little late.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“No, but what did you bring?” Maka finally stopped running around and fell onto the couch, smiling widely and folding her legs to her side.

“Ah, this cider that I like, Woodchuck,” He walked towards her, placing the bag on the table and revealed the cans, “I remember you saying you prefer it over beer so I’d figure I’d be a good guest and bring something.”

“I’ll take one and you can put the rest in the fridge,” Maka leaned forward, reaching to a marbled coster that sat on her coffee table and put it down with a clink. Soul cracked open the drink and handed it to her. “Thanks.”

“Do you live here alone?” Soul asked as he walked towards her kitchen. The wooden floors changed to tile and the walls changed to a pale cream color. The cabinets were a soft blue, matching the walls in the living room. The electronics -- fridge, stove, dish washer, microwave -- were all white. It seemed more like she had designed the apartment as a whole rather than just decorating.

“No, Tsubaki lives here, but she’s been staying more and more with Blake lately. I think they’re gonna move out together soon.”

“I live alone,” Soul walked back, cider in hand, and stopped at the edge of the kitchen, leaning on the counter. “My apartment looks like a shithole compared to yours though.”

“I doubt that,” Maka sipped, eyes quickly flicking over Soul’s body, “you seem pretty well put together.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to come over and see it for yourself.”

Her cheeks turned red right as a holler came from the other side of the front door and it swung open, revealing Blake and Tsubaki holding three boxes of pizza each. Blake shouted a greeting before walking to the kitchen and dropping the boxes on the counter. He opened the top box and pulled a steaming slice of black olive covered pizza out and took a bite, moaning.

“Get a room,” Soul scoffed, giving his friend a punch on the shoulder.

“I love her,” Blake said, holding the pizza up in the air as he chewed, “she is my everything. My one true love,” he glanced over to Tsubaki and gave her a wink, “the pizza isn’t too bad either.”

“Gross,” Maka stuck her tongue out in fake disgust, “save it for when you’re alone.”

Shortly after the couple arrived, the other friends Maka had mentioned began to trickle in. Soul recognized Liz and Patti, blonde sisters who had gone into the bar occasionally, but he had never really spoken to them. Kendrick, or Kid as the others called him, was much more clean and crisp than Soul had imagined. Kilik was a regular from the bar, but mostly played pool or threw darts with a group of guys. Jackie and Kim made their arrival by Kim shouting, “Your token gay friends are here,” before slamming the door behind her.

“Soul, everyone,” Maka waved her hands vaguely to the group that had taken over her kitchen. Soul had moved to the couch once Liz and Patti arrived, allowing the sisters to get some pizza, “Everyone, Soul.”

“Hi Soul,” the all said unanimously, even though their eyes were glued to the different pizza boxes.

“Sorry,” Maka sighed as she leaned back into the couch, “I thought I taught them to act better than this when people come around, but I guess pizza is more important.”

“Pizza is always more important,” Kim’s voice echoed over the others, her pink hair bouncing as she looked up over the group, glaring at Maka.

Soon everyone had their plate of pizza, a drink in hand, and were crowded around the coffee table where a large box of Cards Against Humanity sat. Kim and Jackie cuddled on the ground, their back to the bookshelf wall. Kilik sat on one end of the coffee table, and Liz and Patti on the other. Kid opted to stay at the kitchen counter, mumbling about how he couldn’t believe Maka would let everyone eat on her carpet. That left Tsubaki, Blake, Maka, and Soul on the small, cream couch. Tsubaki and Blake were close, her leg thrown over his as she nibbled on her pizza crust. Maka’s thigh was warm against Soul’s, and he felt her shoulder brush his whenever she moved. It felt weird to be this close to someone he had met only a few weeks ago, but not wrong.

“I’ll be the first judge,” Kim said, putting her pizza down, “come on, bitches, show me what you’ve got.”

Jackie delt out the cards, the quieter half of the couple. Everyone shuffled through their cards, a few giggling and others groaning at their choices. Kim pulled the first black card out and smirked.

“It’s a pity that kids these days are all getting involved in …,” she put the card down and picked her pizza back up, waiting for the answers.

Soul took a moment to read his cards. It seemed like Kim had a more dark sense of humor. He skimmed through his hand before deciding to put down the Depression card. Quickly, everyone else put their cards down and Kim slapped he thighs like a drum roll until the last one was placed. She hummed happily as she gathered them, and read each one aloud. It had seemed like most of the group had used throw-away cards, but when Kim got to Soul’s, she snorted a laugh out.

“For sure going in the good pile,” Kim put his down and read the last one, “It’s a pity that kids these days are all getting involved in … holy shit you fuckers are baaaaad.” 

She flipped the card around as she cracked up, revealing the card Genocide. Everyone snorted and tried to hold back their laugh, but the room was quickly filled with laughter. Even Soul couldn’t hold it back.

As the game progressed, and everyone had a few more drinks, Soul began to relax. He tossed his arm up on the couch, behind Maka’s shoulders. She leaned into him after some time, hiding her cards against her chest and sipping at her third drink. As more time went on, Soul’s arm fell a little lower, resting atop her shoulders, the tips of his fingers drawing little circles on her shoulder. He had a feeling the alcohol was helping him decide his actions.

“Okay, my turn,” Maka broke Soul’s thoughts as she leaned forward and drew a black card, “What’s a girl’s best friend?”

Everyone looked through their cards as Maka excused herself for the restroom. Soul watched her, trying his best not to trail his eyes down. Cider seemed to bring out a different side of him.

“Geez,” Blake leaned over to Soul, wiggling his eyebrows, “you and Maka, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Soul scoffed, skimming his cards, “we barely know each other. And her dad is training me.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And we’re acquaintances.”

“Mmmm, Maka doesn’t cuddle up with her aquentencies.”

“Okay, you better have good cards,” Maka returned and Soul’s eyes widened. She had switched out of her sweatpants and into a pair of cotton sleep shorts with little polka dots. Her legs were long and muscular, and she walked over to the couch. She plopped back down next to him and smiled. There was a gleam in her eyes, and Soul couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or her teasing him.

He glanced back at his cards and smirked, picking one out and leaned over Maka to place it on the table. He pressed a warm palm to her knee as he leaned back, shifting to turn his body a bit more towards her, and removed his hand, watching as her cheeks blossomed in color. He tossed his arm back on the couch, fingers brushing against the back of her neck. Goosebumps pricked her skin quickly and she cleared her throat as she grabbed the white cards that had been placed down.

There were a few good ones about sex, one about erotica, another about food, but Soul was waiting for his, fingers tapping senselessly against his cards. Maka’s eyes skimmed the last one, Soul’s, and the back of her neck flushed.

“What is a girl’s best friend? Sexual Tension.”

Blake barked out a laugh as Tsubaki slapped his chest, her own cheeks pink. The others had giggled as well. Soul felt a pinch of guilt for a moment, thinking it was silly of him to point out something like that, but he soon got over his guild whan Maka rolled her eyes and tossed the card to the side, mumbling that she liked the one about Harry Potter erotica. Soul smirked, let his fingers trail over Maka’s neck once more, and then dropped his arm, announcing he needed another drink.

Around eleven thirty everyone began to trickle out. Kilik had two younger siblings to watch, and a big art portfolio to build, so he had to head off early. Kid excused himself quickly after as well because of work. Jackie and Kim had been snuggled together all night, so once others began to leave they decided to make their escape back to their own apartment for alone time. Lastly, Liz, Patti, Blake, and Tsubaki decided to head out to get some chinese food before going to their respective places.

Once everyone had gone, and Maka waved to the last of her friends, Soul realized that he was now alone with her, and a little too drunk to know the line between joking and flirting. 

Maka turned, her back pressed to the door, and Soul could see her cheeks flush from her own tipsy state. She gave him a soft smile, her eyes sparkling with joy but also beginning to blink sleepily. 

“I should probably get the pizza in the fridge,” she cleared her throat, “so it doesn’t go bad.”

“Let me help clean up,” Soul stood from the couch and cracked his back before he began to pick up the various paper plates, beer bottles, and cider cans. Maka mumbled a thanks and slid into the kitchen quietly, opening and closing cabinets to retrieve tupperware. Slowly, the two cleaned up her small apartment.   
Soul threw out the last of the bottles and wiped his hands off. He looked up to see Maka placing the last of the pizza away in a tupperware container, her fingers working to get the lock-tabs down. There were still empty boxes on the counter in front of her. Soul walked over and leaned over the girl, suddenly realizing how much taller he was than her, his chest pressed against her.

“I’m just gonna get these out of your way,” he murmured, reaching over Maka’s shoulder to grab the boxes. He glanced down and watched as her hands moved from the tupperware to the edge of the counter, knuckle turning pink as she gripped it. “Something wrong, blondie?”

“No, ah, I just …,” she said, her nails not tapping at the counter. Soul moved, sensing her uneasiness and went to toss the empty pizza boxes in the trash, “listen, I’m not, like, a prude or anything but I’m not really use to guys being close.”

“Explain?” Soul prompted, moving to lean against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. Maka turned around now, and huffed as she pushed herself up onto the counter top. They sat across from each other, her next to the fridge and him leaning next to her sink.

“My dad was kinda an asshole,” she said, legs swinging slightly, “it wasn’t just the fighting that made my Mama and I upset. He would go out and flirt with all these other women. When we went to Japan, we thought he might straighten up because of it being my Mama’s home but … she caught him with another women … and that’s what kinda tore them apart the most. When my dad and I came back to the States, he kinds disappeared on me, went back to fighting.

“After that whole thing I kinda … steered away from relationships altogether. It was only during my sophomore year in college that I began to dabble around, and even then I was careful. I’ve only have a few boyfriends here and there, but none of them really lasted more than eight or so months. I don’t blame my dad but, I don’t think my childhood with him helped my situation.”

“So, Daddy issues?” Soul smirked and Maka rolled her eyes, trying to fight the smile her lips were curling into. (Her lips. Her lips. Her lips.) “I get it, I’m not from a peachy background either. Everyone has their thing.”

“You listen so much. Tell me about you.”

“That’s nothing to know.”

“But I want to know.”

Soul felt his heartbeat skip for a moment at the way she spoke, at the glimmer in her eyes, at the way she licked her lips after speaking and then looked down, pink in the face and bashful.

“My family is rich,” he started, “famous musicians from Europe, but they moved my brother and I here when we were young. I lived in New York up until about a year ago, then I moved here. I told them that I didn’t want to do classical music, that I liked more … experimental music and trying to write my own pieces, they kinda got, well, pissed. After kinda fucking around during my high school years, and taking a two year break, my parents kicked me out. I went and stayed with my brother for some time but … things don’t always go according to plan and he died in a car accident.”

“Jesus,” Maka whispered, eyes going wide.

“Yeah, it, ah,” Soul licked his lips, trying to push back the memory of him sitting at home, his phone buzzing with the local hospital’s number and then the doctor on the other end giving him the new, “it sucked, it sucks, and I would give anything to have him back but … he was the one who pushed me to stick to my kinda music. In a way, I have him to thank for getting out of that shit hole of a household.”

“Wow,” Maka blinked, green eyes still startled, “I mean, that’s all I can say.”

“It’s not street-fighter gone cheating asshole, but …,” Soul pushed off the counter and walked a little closer to her, stopping as his hips touched the front of her knees, “Maka, I know that we just met, and I appreciate you opening up to me, but you gotta know that I’m not just some jackass who jumps around. I like our …,” he hesitated, wondering just what he was allowed to call them.

“Friendship,” she butted in, a twinkle in her eyes.

“Friendship,” Soul repeated, touching her knee gently, “but I’m not gonna just up and run off. I like you, I like Blake and Tsubaki and that weird bunch of friends you introduced me to tonight. And I don’t like a lot of people.”

“Really,” Maka cocked an eyebrow, “I would have never noticed.”

“What I’m trying to say,” Soul chuckled, his hand moving off of her knees, sliding up her thigh and resting at her hip bone, his fingers pressing gently against the bone, “I may be a fighter, and I may have a little bit of a shit background, but I’m not an asshole, and I don’t leave the people who are important to me. Got it?”

Maka swallow hard. “Got it.”

“Good,” the word seemed to whisper out of his mouth, and he couldn’t help but look down at her lips again, his head now spinning a little. He looked back up to her eyes only to see her doing the same thing, green eyes trained on his lips. She snapped her eyes up when she felt him remove his hand from her hip. “I should, ah, go home.”

“No!” She flushed at the sound of the desperation in her voice, “I mean, you can’t go home … not after how much we drank. At least sleep here. You can take my bed if you want.”

“No, blondie,” Soul sighed, “I think I can manage sleeping on the couch.”

“No, really, I insist.”

“Maka.”

“Soul.”

The man rolled his eyes and stepped back, turning on his heel. He marched into the living room and then dropped himself onto the couch, face first, dramatically sighing as if the couch were the most comfortable thing he had laid on. He heard Maka laugh lightly and hop down from the counter. Her footsteps got closer until she was standing next to him. Soul cracked an eye open as Maka kneeled down, one arm wrapped around her knees.

“Goodnight Soul,” she giggled, poking his cheek, “if you need anything, let me know.”

“Okay,” he muttered, reaching out and grabbing her wrist, tugging the hand that was poking him towards his lips. He ghosted a kiss over the back of her hand, then turned her hand over and pressed a warm, gentle kiss to her palm. He had heard her take a sharp breath and pushed the many, drunken thought his brain conjured up into the back of his head. “Goodnight, angel.”


	3. Stay

The punching bag seams were beginning to split.

Soul felt an ache in his knuckles as he flexed his hands again, his heartbeat in his ears and his breath echoing in the room. Spirit stood behind the punching bag, holding it steady, as Soul swung, counting how many punches he had thrown. (120 … 121 … 122 …)

"That's good for now," Spirit said, pushing the bag towards Soul who took a hop back. He wiped his forehead with the back of his arm, "I'll grab my gloves. The next guy you're up is big and uses a lot of offense."

"How do you even know all of these fighters," Soul stretched up, listening to the ache of his muscles, "I mean, you were out of the scene for a good five or so years."

Spirit was across the room. It was a storage garage that Spirit had, empty except for a punching bag, a few weights, a couple pieces of work-out equipment, and a crudely, painted box on the ground that represented the ring Soul would inevitably be fighting in. Soul walked to the edge of the room and leaned down towards his backpack, feeling around inside for a moment before he pulled out a water bottle. He took a few drinks before pouring a little on the back of his neck. When he turned around, Spirit had large, padded gloves on, ready for Soul.

"I'm pretty stealthy," Spirit said, "and I like to keep an eye on the crowd my Maka hangs out with."

"I don't hang out with other fighters," Soul scoffed, rolling his shoulders as he walked over to Spirit, "in fact, Maka's the one who introduced me to a few new people."

"Yeah, I've noticed you've been with her more."

"Sounds like it's struck a chord with you."

Spirit looked at Soul and then stepped forward swinging the glove. Soul ducked, and as he did so, pushed Spirit's arm away, side stepping to stand behind the man. Spirit turned back around, nodding approvingly before holding the gloves up for Soul to punch.

"I just don't like seeing my baby hanging out with … kids who are like how I was in my twenties."

"I'm not like you, old man," Soul huffed as Spirit took another swing. Soul ducked, this time grabbing Spirit's shoulder and pulling him down to Soul's knee, tapping the top of it to the man's stomach before going back into his regular stance.

"You're a fighter," Spirit held his hands up, "and we all have something in common."

"Yeah, and what's that?"

"A little voice in the back of our head," Spirit made another swing and Soul dodged again, "telling us to go out and fuck something up. Or telling us that we're not good enough, or we need to prove something. It's different for each one, but it always brings us to the ring."

"I think that's called your conscious," Soul smirked.

Spirit caught Soul's fist between the two padded gloves, the older man's blue eyes hard and serious. Red strands of hair were glued to the sides of his face with sweat, and there was a sudden aging of his face, as if he was years older than he actually was.

"Don't try to deny it, don't ignore it, because otherwise you'll end up like me. You better find a way out of this, boy," Spirit's voice was low, "and don't hurt my daughter along the way."

\---

The bar was crowded as expected on a Friday night.

Soul stood at the bar, more so leaned against it, sipping at a beer and people watching. Blake stood behind the bar next to Soul, grimacing as he wiped down an unknown sticky substance on the counter.

"So," Blake sighed, giving up on removing the stain, "is there a reason you suddenly stopped talking to Maka after, I don't know, a whole _month_ of texting back and forth?"

The guilt in Soul's stomach twisted at his friends word. It was true, the two had grown closer after he spent the night at her apartment. He had woken up the next morning to the smell of coffee and toast. Him and Maka talked about work and her schooling and been very domestic. When they parted ways, Maka to the class she was a T.A. for and Soul to a training session with Spirit, she had given him a kiss on the cheek. And after that, they had texted back and forth non-stop. She would send him memes, he would snap pictures of different things that reminded him of her - book covers, posters, one time even the face of a grumpy cat he had seen in the window of a pet shop.

They had even gone out a few times, grabbed some Chinese food and relaxed at her apartment. And she had finally seen his apartment, her face flush when she walked in and Soul reminded her that she finally got a chance to come over and see his place for herself. There were met-ups at the local coffee shop down the street from the bookstore. She had even gone in a few more times, buying books to add to her never ending collection. She would sit in the windowsill with Blair in her lap, a book in hand, and a cup of tea in the other. But things had slowly begun to cross a line.

She would hold his hand when they walked down from the bookstore to the coffee shop after his shifts. There were times where he would throw an arm around the back of the couch during a game night, and she would snuggle right in, place her own hand on his thigh. And, the kisses.

They had started that day she kissed his cheek.

(Or did he start it with the whisper of a promise and a kiss on the back of her hand, like some sort of fucked up prince.)

Maka was affectionate, there was no denying that. Her and Liz and Patti always greeted each other with a kiss on the cheek. She was always holding someone's hand when she was with the group, typically Patti's or Jackie's. She would always sit close to the person she was next to as well, shoulders touching.

But, whenever she was with him, they were constant. First it had been cheek kisses, her planting them on him as she left, and the one occasion he gave her one as he left her apartment after a Chinese food night. Then, there were casual pecks against his shoulder, his back, and even on the scar on his right knuckle from an old fight. She would pass him in the bookstore and drift her fingers along his back, peck a kiss to his shoulder, and then disappear into the bookshelves. In her apartment on game nights, she would stand in the kitchen, their friends laughing in the living room, and he would stand behind her as she washed various cups and plates, rubbing her shoulders. He would lean down and plant a kiss on the nap of her neck when he was done, and each time she would sigh and relax, as if that was the only thing she needed to take the tension away.

But they had yet to actually kiss. And he knew it was only a matter of time.

He had felt Spirit's words weigh down on him after their training session earlier in the week. The fact that the man had pinpointed the exact reason Soul was fighting, the little nagging voice in the back of his head. He didn't want to admit it, and always tried to deny it, but it seemed like Soul was more like Spirit than he originally thought. So, when Spirit brought up Maka, Soul knew there was only one way to keep her safe from the epic downfall he was going to eventually go through. And that was to push her back out of the life she had so easily found her way into.

"Over her," Soul shrugged, wincing at the burn of the alcohol he had chugged after uttering those words.

"I call bullshit," Blake hissed, leaning forward, "that's the biggest load of bullshit I have ever heard. You two were more of a married couple than any of us."

"I'm not good for her, man," Soul turned around and leaned his arms on the bar, clenching the beer bottle between his hands, "Spirit … he was right when he said I was like him. I'm not gonna fuck up Maka's life, not when she's got a whole career ahead of her. Did you know she's working on a thesis about the impact women had in history and the removal of their names and who replaced them? Dude, I barely even knew what a _thesis_ was, and she's putting that shit together? It could start her whole career, her professor is some big, history buff who goes around the world for conferences."

"Dude," Blake sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation, "the fact that you even just told me that about her proves that you're not over her."

"Whatever," Soul turned back around and downed the rest of his drink, "I'm not good for her."

"Yeah, after you promised her you weren't a total fuck up," Soul choked on the beer that he was swallowing as he heard Blake's words, "yeah, man, I know about that. I was Maka's friend before yours, and she's not gonna let some serious shit like that slide. It's basically my purpose in life to council the two of you and make you see how stupid you guys are for not realizing your infatuation for each other."

"You're using too many words to be the real Blake," Soul put the empty bottle on the counter and glanced across the bar to where an old clock hung, "I got a fight in thirty, I'm heading down."

"Whatever," Blake gabbed the empty bottle, "but don't come bitching to me when she finds some new, hot historian boyfriend and you're missing her."

Soul flicked Blake off and pushed through the backdoor of the bar, going into the back room where they stored various bottles, glasses, and cleaning supplies. A hinged door on the bottom of the floor lead down to the basement. Soul huffed as he opened it and the sound of voices echoed up into the back room. He descended the steps, stopping part way down to close the doors back up. Once he reached the bottom, he was met by familiar faces of bystanders and betters. They smiled, raised their drinks at him, slapped him on the back, but he knew that everyone was betting against him tonight.

The guy he was going up against was named Ragnarok, which was a self-given name because the guy thought he was bad ass. He was tall, about six foot two, and weighed over two hundred and fifty pounds, all muscle. So, it was no surprise that once Soul disappeared into the locker room that everyone got a little bit louder and a little more excited about his inevitable loss.

He began his routine, changing into his shorts and stretching his muscles. He was beginning to wrap his knuckles in black when someone slammed the door to the locker room open. He looked up, startled, to see Maka standing there in all her might.

She wore a short, plaid skirt and a cropped, white shirt with combat boots. Very school-girl-ish with her braided hair, but also very Maka. And very hot. Soul internally cursed at himself for the last thought.

"What the fuck," was all she said as she moved to close the locker room door, blocking him from leaving.

"Sorry," Soul went back to wrapping, "not too sure what fuck you are referring to."

"Oh, so funny," there was ice in her voice, "maybe the fuck you gave for me about a week ago? Or for the past month? Seriously, after the whole I don't leave people who are important to me speech?"

"Maka, can we really not do this right now, I have to go up against a big mother fucker and I would rather not -,"

"Oh, yeah your fight, I totally forgot about that. You know, against a fighter. A title you claimed was not applied to you, or at least not in the sense that you would go on and walk out on people who are important to you."

"Maka -,"

"I mean, Christ," she let out a frustrated laugh, "have you seen my dad? He's a big pile of hot garbage! He doesn't know what to do with his life now that my mom's gone. And there are days where I can barely even talk to him without getting pissed. And he's helping you train? Do you really wanna go down that path? I mean, you've already run away from me, just like he did with my mom, and -,"

"We're not a couple," Soul snarled, pulling the wrap tightly around his hand, "sorry blondie, but I'm not your little boyfriend, so you have no right to compare … whatever we had with your parents."

He watched her flinch as if he slapped her. There was a change in her eyes, from anger to sadness, tears forming for a split second before they hardened again. She nodded once and then twice and took a big breath.

"Yeah," her voice was raspy, threatening to break, "whatever we _had_. Got it. Heard you loud and clear that time."

"Maka," Soul sighed and stood up, one hand wrapped and the other holding the loose one he had, "please just … we need to have a proper conversation about this, and it can't be done right before a big fight."

"Your fight, of course, how could I be so stupid," she spat, and then turned on her heel, "go break a leg or some shit."

Soul cursed to himself as she left, slamming the door closed behind her. He felt anger boil up inside of him and he let out a grunt of anger before slumping back onto the bench and laced his fingers into his hair, pulling at the roots in frustration.

_Forget her and go fight._

"Fuck you," Soul spat at the voice in his head and sat up, gripping the wrap for his other hand.

_She's done, just get out there and beat something up._

"Fuck," Soul groaned, squeezing his eyes closed, "I'm so fucked."

\---

He wins the fight in a surprising landslide. Ragnarok was big but clumsy. His punches were slow and predictable, and within the first few minutes, Soul had landed a few good hits in his opponent's face before landing a hard one in the man's jaw, knocking him out.

"Have another on the house," Blake said as he slid Soul another beer. Soul passed his friend the empty bottle he had, "geez, she really dug into you, huh?"

"Less talking, more drinking," Soul groaned, taking a swig. His head was already beginning to pound, a combination of the fight and drinks. But, he had a wallet stuffed with enough money to cover rent for the next two months and some groceries, so he was happy enough.

"Don't look now," Blake said, "but here she comes."

"Fuck," Soul dropped his head as Blake wished him good luck and walked further down the bar to help other customers. Soul peeked up when he heard Maka clear her throat. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes were dilated and there was a beer in her hand.

"I'm sorry," she said, a slur to her words, "and yes, I know I'm … tipsy? But let me just … I'm sorry for ass-assuming there was something going on, or even implying it. You know what they say about assuming stuff."

"It's okay, blondie," Soul hummed, turning towards her and taking a sip of his drink, "I know there hasn't been a real line or definition."

"Well, I'm like that with all my friends," she sighed, suddenly plopping down on the stool next to his, "I always give them cheek kisses and hold their hands."

"And have solo Chinese nights, and cuddle on the couch, and leave lingering touches …,"

"Whooooops," Maka giggled and took another sip of her drink.

"Maka, I think you might be a little more than tipsy."

"Soul," Maka rolled her eyes, "I am a grown ass women, I know when I am drunk and when I'm -," she stopped talking as she stood up, suddenly swaying. Soul quickly reached out with his free hand, grabbing her waist and steadying her. She flushed as she looked up at him and then pushed his hand away, clearing her throat. "Okay, maybe I'm … a liiiiittle drunk."

"I'm gonna get you an Uber," Soul sighed, pulling his phone out.

"Nooooo," she leaned forward and tried to steal his phone, but instead stumbled into him, her hands falling onto the tops of his thighs and her face pressed against his chest, "whoops again."

"Okay, I'm taking this," Soul plucked her half-drunk beer from where she sat and leaned over the counter of the bar to hide it, "and I'm getting an Uber now."

"I don't wanna go home alone," she moved her hands to his chest now, green eyes wide and her lip pouty.

"Don't worry angel, I'll make sure you get home safe," Soul smirked and watched as her rosy cheeks turned read, followed by a flush on her neck. "Come on, let's wait outside. Did you come alone?"

"Yeah," she leaned into his side and Soul wrapped an arm around her waist, trying to keep her steady, "I got Black Star, I mean _Blake_ ," she giggled at the mention of his old name, "to tell me-to tell me where you were. And then I walked over. I … I didn't think I'd drink this much but …,"

"But then I was an asshole, and you were an asshole," Soul laughed as Maka slapped him on the chest.

"You were more of the asshole than me," She grumbled, "mister-mister _I don't fuck over the-the people I like_ , bullshit."

"I was trying to protect you," they had made it outside now and Soul let her go, turning towards her, "I had a talk with your dad and … he made me realize some stuff."

"Well there's your first mistake," she poked him in the chest, glaring with a drunken gaze, "you talked to my Papa."

"My bad," Soul smiled at her, amused by her drunk-self, "look the Uber is here. Please don't throw up."

"I can hold my alc-alcohol, thank you veeeeery much."

They slid into the back of the car and Maka quickly curled up into Soul's side, her head on his chest and a hand across his stomach as she drifted off. It was a short drive, only a few minutes long, but she had somehow managed to pass out. The ride was quiet and Soul watched as the streetlights passed, feeling the warmth of her on him and trying to ignore the fact that pushing Maka Albarn out of his life wasn't going to work.

When they got to her apartment complex, he helped her up that stairs, unlocked her door, and even helped her sit on the couch. He told her to take her shoes off while he went to grab a glass of water for her. When he got back, her boots and socks were off and now her hands were gripping the hem of her shirt, starting to pull up.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Soul said urgently, putting the water down quickly and placing his hands on top of hers to stop her, "I'm still here you know."

"I know," Maka pouted, "but I'm not comfy and I wanna be comfy."

"Okay, ah, let me get you something to wear then," Soul left, disappearing down the hall and into her room.

It was dark but he could make out the shape of her dresser across the room. He already knew she kept a stack of oversized shirt in the top drawer because he borrowed one once. (He had secretly hoped that day that they would trade places, that she would borrow one of his shirts.) He reached into the drawer, grabbed a random one, and went back out.

Maka was now laying on the couch, half of the water gone, and she had an arm thrown over her face. Her skirt was now flipped up and he could see the pale color of her panties. He sighed, pushed the nagging thoughts in his mind away, and kneeled next to her. He mimicked their situation from a month ago and poked at her cheek. Maka cracked a single eye open, peering from under her arm. She glanced at the shirt he had presented to her and hummed happily. Before he saw anything else, Soul turned and walked back into the kitchen.

He returned with a peanut butter sandwich and left it on the coffee table. Maka's clothes were now tossed over the couch and she had managed to pull the blanket that she kept on the top of the couch over herself. Soul kneeled down again.

"Maka," he said gently.

"Sooooul," she replied, turning to smile at him, "thanks for helping me."

"Of course blondie," he ruffled her hair a bit, "any time. Especially if I can watch you embarrass yourself."

"Are you leaving?" She pouted at him as he stood up.

"Yeah, you need sleep," Soul turned and started to walk away but felt a hand wrap around his wrist. He looked back at Maka to see her sitting up slightly, a sadness in her eyes.

"No," she whispered, "stay with me."

"Maka …,"

"Please? I promise I don't drool or snore."

"We both know that's a lie, you've fallen asleep on me before."

"I just …," she looked down at where she held his wrist, moving her hand to grip his own hand, "I'm sorry we fought and I'm sorry about … the stupid stuff I said about my parents. I just want us to go back to … whatever we had."

"Okay angel," Soul said, and she looked up at him quickly, her green eyes hopeful and happy.

(He knew he wouldn't be able to say no to her from day one.)

Soul toed his shoes off as Maka sat up some more. He sat down, and she tugged on the hem of his shirt, urging him to lay with her. After looking at her puppy dog eyes, he sighed and moved further down, pulling the blanket over himself as well. Maka purred happily and snuggled down, turning herself towards him. In an instant her leg was tossed over his hip, and her hands were pressed against his chest. Her cheek rested on his shoulder, and Soul was still trying to figure out where to put his hands when he heard her begin to gently snore.

He looked down at her, watching her eyes flicker in a dream, and wondered just what he had gotten himself into. Again.


	4. Instinct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a day late. I teach and had a tough day yesterday so I didn't have a chance to finish proofing the chapter. But it's here now! Enjoy!

 

Trivia night use to be the worst, but with Maka on the team, Soul actually felt proud.

It had been something Blake had started a few months back to bring in customers to the bar, and Soul typically worked on those nights because people seemed to actually enjoy trivia. After Maka had begun to show up and play until the bar closed (and distract Soul), Blake had decided to let Soul have trivia nights off. Currently, their team consisted of Maka, Soul, Kilik, and Kid. The remainder of the group was working, besides Tsubaki, who was trying her best to fight off a cold.

Their group stood around a cocktail table, each of them with a drink in hand and eyes glued onto the T.V. screen in the back of the bar. It was an app game of some sort, where each team put their name in. A question would then pop up on the T.V. and the teams would have to answer within a given time limit. So far, there were only three teams playing, but their team was in the lead by two hundred points.

Maka was tucked against Soul’s side, his arm around her waist as they laughed at a joke Kilik told them. Another month had come and gone, a month since Soul had woken up to a hungover Maka cuddled into his chest. A month of his heartbeat picking up a little more every time she touched him or left one of her casual kisses.

“Oh, I know this one,” Maka gasped as she looked at the app on her phone quickly, tapping rapidly on one of the answers. A green check mark appeared on the screen and the team received two hundred more points.

The next questions flashed on the T.V. screen. _What does the term ‘piano’ mean?_

“Pick B,” Soul said as he sipped on his drink. Maka blinked at him for a moment before picking the answer, _to be played softly_. A green check mark flashed on the phone again, and the team got another two hundred points. Maka looked up at him and smiled.

“How did you know that?”

“I play piano.”

“Really,” Maka turned towards him and Soul let his arm drop, already missing her warmth, “how come I never knew that?”

“Never came up,” Soul finished the last of his drink, “I’m gonna grab another drink. Want anything?”

“Nope,” Maka smiled at him again and looked back at the T.V. as Kilik said to press answer C. Soul smiled as he watched her and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head before walking to the bar.

“You’re in it, man,” Blake said once he arrived to help Soul.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

Soul rolled his eyes and took his drink. When he joined the others, the round for trivia night was over and they had won. Maka looked happy as she talked to the others and Soul slid into the conversation.

“I didn’t know you were into the arts,” Kilik said as Soul joined, “you know, I’m in the visual arts program as Uni. They have a pretty good music program too.”

“You should apply,” Maka gasped, turning to slap Soul on the chest, “it’s perfect.”

“Whoa, easy there,” Soul looked at the group, “I haven’t played in a while, I just mess around with writing stuff. The only piano I have is some electric keyboard I found on the side of the road a few months ago. Plus, I work at two dead-end jobs. I don’t have money for a University.”

“There’s scholarships,” Kid spoke up, “and I think my father made sure there were enough for at least five admissions per program. He’s good at that kinda stuff, thought I think five is a little high.”

“Yeah, and loans,” Maka chimed in, “I used loans, which suck because you have to pay them back, but I could help you fill out paperwork.”

“I’m good,” Soul took a sip of his drink, “besides, I don’t even think I wanna go back to school.”

“You don’t _think_ ,” Maka tapped his head with her finger, “that’s for sure.”

“Hey, watch it blondie.”

Maka stuck her tongue out at Soul before leaving to use the restroom. He watched as she walked away and into the hallway that lead to the restrooms. He turned back to Kilik and Kid who were now debating the pros and cons of college admissions. Soul wondered how he tolerated the two whenever they began to debate.

“Why haven’t you thought about school, Soul?” Kilik asked, trying to get out of the conversation with Kid.

“Dunno,” Soul shrugged, “money and timing mostly."

“Well, like you said earlier, you’ve got two jobs now,” Kid said, “and you’ve been in this area for, what, a year now? Do you think you’re going to move somewhere else any time soon?”

“I haven’t thought about it, but you never know.”

“I think you should at least tour,” Kilik finished the last of his own beer, “just to check out the place. It’s a history school, so about half the classes revolve around the history or your major and when you graduate, you have a certification in the history of whatever you’re majoring. I’ll have a certification in modern-era sculptures and architecture.”

“Maka told me you did a lot of sculptures. What do you use?”

“Mostly metals. I like to heat them up and see how they react.”

“Pyromaniac,” Kid smirked. Kilik punched the other man in the shoulder and then went to get himself another drink.

“If you want a tour I can set one up,” Kid said, turning towards Soul, “since my father’s out of town right now I have been taking over some of his duties as dean. I can arrange a private tour, have you introduced to some professors as well.”

“Thank Kid, but I don’t really think that’s my kinda crowd.”

“Just think about it.”

“Okay,” Soul’s eyes flicked to the hallway Maka had disappeared down, “I’ll think about it.”

“I grabbed another one for you too Kid,” Kilik joined the guys again, putting down a second beer bottle, “when does the next trivia round start?”

“How long has Maka been gone?” Soul asked, looking for the clock in the bar.

“I don’t know,” Kid replied, looking at his watch, “maybe ten, fifteen minutes? But the women’s restroom is usually a pretty long wait.”

“Yeah, but there’s not too many girls here tonight,” Soul took a sip from his beer before putting it down on the cocktail table, “I’ll be right back.”

“So protective,” Kilik sighed as Soul walked away.

Soul made his way towards the hallway, mumbling _excuse me_ as he pushed past a few people. As he got closer, he heard a familiar, rugged voice echoing from the hallways followed by Maka’s own retort.

“I said,” Maka snarled as Soul rounded the corner, “no thanks.”

As the scene unfolded, Soul felt the voice inside of his head laugh madly.

Maka was pushed up against the wall, eyes made of fire as Ragnarok leaned forward, trapping her in with one arm pinned against the wall and the other one beginning to creep up her thigh, fingers threatening to push up under her skirt.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Ragnarok smirked, “I’ll be the best you’ve ever been with, I can promise that.”

“Get your fucking hands,” Soul growled, snapping the two’s attention to him, “off my girl.”

Before Ragnarok could retaliate, Soul was down the hallway. He swung and landed a punch on Ragnarok’s cheek, making the man stumble backwards, but ultimately freeing Maka from the intrusion. She hissed his name at him as she reached out and gripped the front of his shirt, tugging for him to follow her and leave the situation.

“You mother fucker,” Ragnarok laughed, rubbing the blood from his mouth as he turned to face Soul, “it’s fine, take your slut and run off.”

“What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

“No, I don’t think I did,” Soul moved towards the man again, ignoring Maka’s plead for him to back off. “Say it again. Say it again and see what happens. I knocked your ass down once, I can do it again.”

“I said,” Ragnarok loomed over him, but Soul’s presence filled the hallway, “take your fucking slut and run off. It’s okay, I’m sure she’s working with her pussy of a father to make some extra money. Nothing wrong with a little side work, sweetheart, and I am willing to pay.”

Soul hadn’t know what it meant when people said they saw red, but in that moment, it finally clicked.

His fist went flying and the two men began to fight. Maka hollered for help behind them, but neither of the men seemed to hear her. As Soul dodged one of Ragnarok’s punches, he heard the voices of Kilik and Kid from down the hall, along with some other guys as they came to break up the fight. Soul was pulled away, and something silver caught the corner of his eye.

Maka stood in front of him, raising her hands to touch his face, eyes inspecting a bruise forming on his cheekbone, but behind her Ragnarok had pulled out a switchblade, and swung it open. His arm arched and he brought it down, and suddenly everything was in slow motion. Soul yelled for Maka and she began to turn around, eyes wide. Then, he broke free of the grip Kilik and a stranger had on him, shoving Maka to the side and watched as the blade narrowly missed her, but landed on the new target -- him.

There was a scream, some yelling, and Soul watched as blood began to soak the front of his shirt. But, a fist connected with the side of his head and then all he saw was black.

\---

 

Soul woke up to the smell of antiseptics and the warmth of a hand in his. 

He didn’t open his eyes because he could already feel the brightness of the room behind his eyelids, but he listened because there was another person in the room that he could feel. And there were words, words he couldn’t quite make out, but if he listened closely enough …

“Baby, I just … I’m worried. I don’t wanna see you go down the path your mom and I went down,” Spirit’s voice sounded far away but Soul knew he was in the room.

“I understand Papa,” it was Maka who was holding his hand because as she spoke, he felt her grip tighten, “but this isn’t you and Mama. Soul and I, what we have going on, it’s … different. We’re friends.”

Spirit added something else, but there was a pull inside of Soul towards sleep and the next thing he knew he was waking back up, this time blinking his eyes open.

“Well shit,” Blake was sitting next to his bed, hair a bit disheveled but a loopy grin plastered to his face, “there’s the ugly bastard.”

“What are you doing here,” Soul groaned, closing his eyes again, “and why do I ache so much.”

“Well, you got pretty beat up,” Blake sighed, leaning back in his chair, “from what I heard, you and Ragnarok got in a fight, he pulled a knife, and you got in the way. You had to get a few stitches there, dude.”

“Fuck,” he groaned again, touching his chest and feeling the rough pattern of stitches underneath the medical gown. He flinched, forgetting how sensitive the wound would be. “Where’s Maka? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. She’s a little shook up but that girl is made of steel. She went to get some coffee.”

“Jesus,” Soul moved and sat up a little more, wincing at the soreness of the wound.

“Oh my God,” a voice came from the door of the room and the boys turned to see Maka standing there with two cups of coffee in hand, “Oh my God, you’re awake!”

She almost dropped the coffees as she rushed to the bedside, thrusted the cups at Blake, and then threw her arms around Soul’s neck. He wanted to tell her that she was hurting his chest, but the warmth and smell of her pushed the pain away. Soul lifted his arms, wrapping then gingerly around Maka. She pulled away after a moment, her hands moving from his shoulders to his face as she ran a thumb over his cheek.

“This is my cue to leave,” Blake said as he stood up, grabbing his cup of coffee, “I’ll let the other’s know you’re up and good.”

“I should get the doctor,” Maka said as she pulled back. Soul grabbed her wrist as she stood, Blake already out of the room.

“Stay a little long,” Soul pulled her back and Maka slid onto the cot, sitting next to him, “I don’t wanna worry about me, I wanna check on you.”

“Soul, you’re the one who got basically stabbed,” Maka rolled her eyes and moved her hand to be holding his, “I mean, _seriously_? What even made you think that was a smart idea.”

“Instinct?” He offered with a raised eyebrow. Maka smirked and shook her head at him. “I’d rather it be me than you in this situation.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Maka reached out again, pressing her free hand to his cheek, “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“I’m glad _you’re_ safe,” Soul placed his hand over hers and he turned to kiss her palm, mirroring the time he did it so long ago. (Was it really only two months?) “If he hurt you … I don’t know what I would have done.”

“But he didn’t,” Maka leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his, “and that’s what matters.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he replied.

  
Soul then closed his eyes, drinking in her presence for a moment longer, feeling her against him for a few more seconds, before he had to go back to the reality of what they were. _Friends_. 


	5. Angel

It took two weeks for the stitches to be removed and the wound to heal into a pale, ragged scar across his chest. When he first stood in the doctor’s office, shirt in hand and eyes tracing the scar in the mirror, he thought it looked pretty nasty. But, Maka had appeared in the mirror over his shoulder, her own eyes trained on the scar and upset laced in with green. Soul had smirked and turned around and told her, “Scar’s are cool.”

It took about a month and a half for everything to fall back into place. Soul was out of fighting for a while with the wound and his tussle with Ragnarok, which left him worried about food and rent and everything else in between. His apartment wasn’t expensive, but the money he thought he would use from his wins went towards hospital bills. Luckily, Maka had driven him to the hospital with the others, so no ambulance bill there. Still, the numbers racked up, and without insurance, he had to pay a pretty penny. Now, his rent was due in two weeks, he was out of a regular cash flow, and his fridge was empty.

“Tsubaki and Blake are getting an apartment in the new year,” Maka had told him one night while they watched their friends play games, “and she’s never here anyways. You can room here instead, get rid of the apartment while you can.”

It sounded wonderful but also terrible. He could save money, live a little closer to his two workplaces, and see Maka on a regular. Wonderful. But seeing Maka on a regular, seeing her fresh out of the shower, seeing her in the morning with bleary eyes and tired smiles, seeing her curled up on the couch in a big shirt and little shorts as she asked how his day was? Terrible. Because he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle himself properly around that.

“I’ll think about it,” he had said, looking to her with a soft smile, “thanks, angel.”

The nickname was new. He had begun to say it, occasionally when they were alone, but now it had replaced his old, fond term, blondie. Angel had planted itself right into his vocabulary, and he had no idea how it had, but it did and it fit her and it wasn’t going anywhere.

“That sounds perfect,” Blake had howled when Soul told him about Maka’s offer, “I mean, you and the girl you like, sharing an apartment, it’s only a matter of time until you two realize you’ve been dancing around each other for so long.”

“First of all,” Soul nursed a beer, glaring at the blue-haired man, “I don’t like her like that. Second, Tsubaki still lives there. And third, we’re not dancing around anything. We’re friends.”

“Yeah, tell yourself that all you want, but we all see how you two look at each other.”

Soul rolled his eyes, told his friend to fuck off, and tried to ignore the nagging voice in the back of his head that validated everything Blake had said.

Now, it was October, and a coolness had settled in their college town. People were beginning to get excited for Halloween, the holiday becoming a month-long tradition in Death Valley. People wore costumes too early, decorated entire buildings in orange and black, and there were restaurants that even changed their menus to fit the Halloween aesthetic. So, it was only a matter of time until Blake came to Soul with the brilliant idea of throwing a Halloween party at the bar.

“It will be perfect,” he said over lunch one day while the two of them leaned against the bar, sandwiches in front of them, “I mean, college kids love bar parties. Plus, Death Valley lives on Halloween. We get major tourism during the time. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before!”

“So we put up a few decorations, rename a few drinks, and play some old, scary movies?” Soul cocked an eyebrow, grabbing his sandwich and taking a bite. “Then what?”

“Costume contest!”

“Oh dear God,” Soul groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Blake would do anything to have a dress-up type party. There was Valentine’s day where he was Cupid, St. Patrick's Day where he dyed his hair orange for a period of time and dressed up like a Leprechaun, then during the 4th of July he decorated in red, white, and blue. “Okay, costume contest, but then we need a prize.”

“Free drinks for the rest of the year,” Blake shrugged, “easy peasy. One winner, one person we need to feed drinks too.”

“Advertisement?”

“Tsubaki minored in graphic design.”

“Decorations?”

“Liz and Patti.”

“Wow, you really thought this through,” Soul took another bite of the sandwich.

“Dude,” Blake’s eyes got wide, “you have no idea.”

When the time for the party came around, Soul realized that he had to have a costume as well. It was kinda required because he was working that night. So, last minute, he pulled out his old, leather jacket from his motorcycle days, went to the closest Halloween store and picked up some ‘demon’ accessories. A pair of plastic fangs, red contacts, and horn-headband did the trick and when he arrived at the bar, in all black and red. Blake hollered that it was perfect.

“Why are you so excited,” Soul pulled the fangs out, opting to not use the particular accessory. Something twinkled in Blake's eyes as he whipped his phone out, snapped a picture of Soul scowling, and then texted rapidly. “Please don’t send that to anyone.”

“Too late,” Blake shoved his phone in his pocket and a group of people, all dressed up, came into the bar. “And so the chaos begins!”

Soul was thrust behind the bar and for four hours he was mixing drinks, smiling at folks, and making sure that the movies kept playing. Liz and Patti had covered the walls in fake spiderwebs, blood splatters, and caution tape. There was a small fog machine in the back of the bar that cycled on and off every thirty minutes. Blake had made a sign to hang behind the bar that listed the night’s drinks. Angel’s Kiss Martini. Pumpkin Spice IPA. Vampire’s Favorite. (Which was a Bloody Mary and Soul didn’t know why he changed the name.) But there was one drink that Soul groaned when he saw it listed. Soul Eater.

“What the story behind that?” Kim asked once her and Jackie had arrived. They were both dressed up as witches, Kim’s outfit a tad more revealing than her girlfriends. The two had gotten some fancy, Witch’s Brew drink. They were mixing the drinks, Kim smirking mischievously. 

“When Soul first got here,” Blake came up behind him and slapped his arm around the man’s shoulder. He was dressed up like a ninja, his hair spiked with jelly and a ribbed up, black tank top on. He smirked as he continued, “and he was quite the lady killer. Got himself a little nickname after a month.”

“Damn, Soul,” Kim laughed, taking a sip of her drink, “guess I’ll have to give Maka a bit of that information.”

“W-what?” Soul’s voice cracked.

“See you boys later!” Kim gave them a little finger wave before grabbing Jackie’s hand and pulling the girl to the dance floor. A DJ had come around ten and set up, playing a mix of Halloween classics and more current songs. 

“What does that mean?” Soul glared to Blake, “I don’t need Maka thinking that I sleep around.”

“Someone a little insecure?” Blake wiggled his eyebrows before barking out a laugh and disappearing farther down the bar to help customers.

As the night went on, Soul became more anxious. Maka and Tsbuaki had said they would come by, but he hadn’t seen either of the girls. Liz and Patti had shown up, dressing in twin cowgirl costumes. Kid showed up, but was in a nice suit and said he was dressed as a bureaucrat, but Soul knew he just didn’t want to change after work. Kilik came with a blow torch he swore was fake and in welding clothes. A part of Soul felt like he just wanted to show off his skills, so Soul made a note to keep an eye on Kilik once he had a few drinks. Soul didn’t want the place burning down.

At about eleven, the bar was full, Soul could barely keep track of people's tabs, and Maka arrived.

He saw the bob of her blonde hair in the crowd before anything else. She was with Tsbuaki, who was dressed as a sexy ninja and Blake had already tackled her, capturing a searing kiss before saying something to make her blush. Then, both the girls looked at Soul and Maka said something to the couple before walking over. He could see the white, pipe-cleaner-like halo she wore and the tip of white wings on her back as she got closer, and he took a sharp breath because he knew he was doomed.

She wore a silk, white slip dress with some fur-like material around the hem of the skirt of the dress and across the bust. Thin straps held the dress up on her shoulders and there were thicker straps which held up the wings that were on her back. Her hair was done up into two, curled pigtails, tied off with white ribbon, and she wore a headband that sat behind her bangs which held up a dollar-store halo. Someone had done her make-up (“I do a little here and there but it can sometimes be annoying,” she had once said when the group swung by a make-up store for Liz when they were at the mall.) because her eyes were framed in golden eye shadow and her lips painted a soft pink.

“I’ll have an Angel Kiss,” she smiled as she reached the bar, leaning forward a little to speak over the party-goers, “and a … Soul Eater?”

“Don’t ask,” his voice came out rough as he dragged his eyes away from the neckline of her dress, “nice costume.”

“I could say the same to you,” her green eyes raked over his body and he told himself it was simply because she was looking at his costume. 

“No, really,” Soul turned around with two glasses in his hands so he could start making her drinks, “you look incredible. Like a real angel.”

He relished in the way her cheeks turned rosey at the complement. His eyes traced down her neck, following the flush to her chest. He swallowed hard as her breasts push against the top of her dress as she took a huff of breath. He flicked his eyes back up, catching her looking off to the side as she brushed some loose hair behind her ear. Soul handed her the drinks and she thanked him, telling him to open a tab for her and he winked, telling her it was on him.

He worked behind the counter for a little while longer until Blake relieved him. Soul grabbed himself a drink, stuffed his tips into his wallet, and then searched for Maka. She had come back to the counter for another drink, but other than that she had been standing off to the side of the place with Tsubaki and Blake, talking and laughing and drinking. Soul had noticed a few guys walk up to her, but Maka always had a way of scaring them off. Soon, Soul caught sight of the tip of her wings within the crowd as she moved towards the bar. He smirked and pushed his way towards her.

“Funny seeing you here,” he shouted as he wrapped a hand around her wrist. Maka looked up to him, eyes flashing from annoyance to pleasant surprise. 

“I thought you were working all night?” She asked, leaning against the bar. 

“Blake let me off,” Soul crowded her against the bar, placing his glass down on the bar as he framed her with his arms. Her back was pressed against his chest as she waited to get the second bartenders attention for another drink. “Why did it take you guys so long?”

“Tsubaki was set on doing my make-up,” Maka looked over her shoulder, cheeks flushed from the alcohol and his presence, “and then I was set on doing my hair after she did my make-up.”

“You could have come without anything on and would have looked just as amazing.”

“Thanks,” Maka laughed, “but I’m pretty sure showing up to a public place naked is illegal.”

Soul felt his own face flush this time because that wasn’t exactly what he meant but Maka had already turned back around now that the bartender was there and ordered another drink. Soul grabbed his drink, taking a few more sips as Maka drummed her fingers on the bar, waiting patiently for her own drink. Soul’s other hand left the bar and trailed to her side, stopping on her hip. He watched her body relax a bit and she thanked the bartender, closing her tab once she got her drink. Soul glared at her and she smiled.

“I have to pay for at least some of my drinks.”

They leave the bar and mingle a bit with their friends. Liz and Patti are thoroughly drunk and Kid was trying his best to keep the girls together. Tsubaki and Black Star disappeared part way through the night. Kim and Jackie were out dancing, and Kilik was showing off his torch to people. Soul slipped in and made sure the torch didn’t actually work before letting the man have his fun. 

“I think I should head out soon,” Maka said some time later, checking her phone to see it was almost three in the morning, “Halloween is over now.”

“Halloween is never over in Death Valley and you know that,” Soul plucked her phone from her hands and slipping it into his pocket, “let’s go dance.”

The alcohol she had drank had worn off by now so Soul was sure that the flush on her cheeks was from embarrassment this time. She looked out to the center of the bar were people were dancing and grinding then she looked back to Soul.

“I thought you didn’t dance?”

Soul shrugged, “I’ve had enough drinks to loosen up a bit.”

“Well I don’t dance. Especially not when I’m dressed like this. There are creeps out there. Did you see that one guy with the monocle come up to me?”

“I won’t let anyone touch you,” Soul grabbed her hand and began to drag her out as the music paused for an announcement, signalling the last twenty minutes of the bar being open. “One song. The bar’s closing soon anyways. And no one works the day after Halloween.”

“I have papers to grade,” Maka chewed at her bottom lip. (Soul wished he could do the same.)

“I can help. Live a little, Maka.”

The two ended up in the heart of the dance floor with people pushing around them and hollering with the music. Soul could tell Maka was a little unsure because her hands are raised slightly and she was looking around as if she was trying to find a place to put them. Soul wanted to laugh, but instead he grabbed her wrists and spun her around so her back was pressed to his chest. It was warm and familiar but strange all the same. Because, typically when they are like this, he is pressing a kiss to her head as she cleans the dishes, or leaning over her shoulder to look at what she’s cooking, or peering to see what book she has in her lap. But now, there’s music involved and he’s the one who invited her to dance, and she’s wearing an ungodly short dress, and he realized that this was a mistake.

But it’s too late.

For someone who doesn’t dance, Maka began moving pretty easily to the music even though she has shown she had no understanding of rhythm time and time again. Her hips were swaying and she moved his hands to her sides because he became the idiot whose hands were hoving and searching for a place to hold. It seemed so sudden, but now they were dancing, swaying and moving to the music. She was moving her hands over his, leading his own palms up and down her sides and he wondered for a split second if she was doing it on purpose until she turns and looks over her shoulder with lidded eyes and he knew he was about to change everything.

He grabbed her hand, twisting her quickly as he pulled the two of them from the crowd. Maka yelled over the music, asking him where they were going and if he was okay, and before she can finish her third question, he has her pushed up against a wall and his lips attached to her neck. He heard a gentle gasp from her lips when her back hit the wall and then a soft moan as his lips make contact with her neck and he tried his hardest to memorize the sound.

“Soul,” she whispered in his ear as his fingers dug into her hips.

“Dammit Maka,” he practically growled, nudging his nose up along her neck, stopping to graze his lips on the shell of her ear, “you come in here, dressed like a fucking angel, and look at me with those eyes and expect me not to react?”

“Actually,” she panted and one of her hands moved to his hip as the other trailed up to the back of his neck and curled into his hair, “I was waiting to see how long it would take you.”

“Fuck,” he dropped his forehead against her shoulder as her nails began scratching at his scalp. 

“That’s kinda what I was hoping --,” Maka was cut off as Soul pushed her against the wall again and kissed her.

He had imagined what it would be like, had seen the moment in his dreams, and he had hoped it would be in her kitchen or at the bookstore like some cheesy romance novel she read. Strangely, it felt just right for them to make out in the back of the shitty bar where they first met. 

She tasted like the mix drinks she had gotten during the night and the strawberry lip gloss she had on, and her breath was warm and mixing with his as he deepened the kiss. He felt like his grip on her hips was bruising, but Maka seemed to push against his hands, seeking for more, and he knew he would let her have whatever she wanted. (He knew from the day he met her.) 

One of his hands traveled down her side, grazing the top of her thigh and teasing the edge of her skirt. The other hand holds fast, pinning her to the wall as her hips jerked at the touch of his warm fingers. Soul moved his mouth down, returning to planting hot kisses against her neck as his hand inched up the side of her skirt, feeling the smoothness of her skin. Before his fingers traveled any higher, there was a hollar as two guys enter the hallway Maka and Soul had slipped into. 

Soul stepped back and he swore he heard Maka whine. He looked to her and was sure his own pupils were blown just as much as hers and his breath was just as labored. He grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly in his own, and smiled. 

“My place or yours, angel?”


End file.
